


Erised

by CrushingThe4thWall



Series: Erised ‘verse [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Gen, Harry Potter Needs a Hug, Harry Potter is a Horcrux, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Light Angst, Mirror of Erised, Slytherin Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:48:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23794144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrushingThe4thWall/pseuds/CrushingThe4thWall
Summary: What if Dumbledore didn't stop Harry from looking at the mirror of erised? what if it took another person to find and save the boy?
Relationships: Harry Potter & Severus Snape, Harry Potter & Tom Riddle
Series: Erised ‘verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1842007
Comments: 5
Kudos: 246





	Erised

The silvery cloak wrapped around the small first year as he settled in front of the mirror. He found it not long after Christmas and was entranced by the magic it held. Time flew by and hours turned into days and days turned into a week and soon he was slowly sinking away into the image before him, the woman with dark red hair and eyes the colour of the curse that took her life, the man with wild hair the boy knew would be impossible to detangle without the loss of several combs, the ancestors that spread behind them.

Of course, the boy, who was named Harry Potter, knew it was impossible to gain what lay before him, but staring was all he could do. He had never seen a photo of even his grandparents. (He got his eyes from his grandfather, who got them from his grandmother who got them from her mother.)

His stomach shot pains through him, a dull repetitive feeling, as he continued to stare. Noise emitted from his body, complaining of the lack of food. It was useless, Harry knew, for it to do that. This was so much more important. He would stay there as long as possible (nobody noticed when he was gone anyways) before finally going back to his room (he had left the dorms at the beginning of the term) to get maybe an hour of sleep and stealing an apple from the great hall before going back to where he started.

Classes would start in only a day, and Harry knew that there was no way out of it, teachers would notice if he wasn’t attending classes. Even his head of house, Professor Snape, would likely dock points from Slytherin after assigning a multitude of detentions. (The man hated him but liked Slytherin more, so all he did was assign detentions.)

Tears brimmed Harry’s eyes. He didn’t want to leave the only bit of hope he had. Hagrid had abandoned him as soon as silver and green appeared on his tie, and most of the Slytherins didn’t like him, either because Malfoy didn’t like them or they were kids of Death Eaters who wanted to follow their parents’ footsteps or because Snape didn’t like him. All were valid reasons, even in Harry’s thoughts.

He didn’t notice the person approaching until it was far too late, and would later realize he was lucky he was there in the middle of the day and the cloak lay in his lap, allowing it to simply look like a regular one, as though he had planned to go outside.

“Potter,” the slow drawl of his head of house caused him to react faintly, a twitch of his fingers, “What are you doing here, you foolish, idiotic boy?”

Harry remained unresponsive, staring intently in the mirror. He heard the man give a drawn-out sigh and suddenly was pulled away from the mirror.

He kicked and screamed, trying to get back to the mirror, as the man pulling him away from it cursed the headmaster of the school. Dimly, in an almost nonexistent part of Harry’s brain, horror at the fact that he was acting like his cousin, Dudley Dursley, but it was quickly covered by get back to the mirror, get back to the mirror. 

Snape had no trouble keeping Harry away from the mirror, due to years of insufficient amounts of food followed by further neglect. Harry clutched the cloak of invisibility in his hands as he began to cry, making no noise other than light sniffles and stuttering intakes of breath.

Harry’s face was pressed into Snape’s robes, which he dimly noted smelled like herbs, as he let out tears. He could hear his professor’s curses between soft murmurings of assurance that it was ok, that he could cry, that no one would hurt him.

Harry didn’t believe the man for an instant, but it was still a comfort.

Harry began flailing again when his professor lifted him off the floor, screaming and begging for the man to put him down, to let him go back to the mirror, to his family, to his mother and father (here the man stiffened) and ancestors, to people who loved him. Snape did not relent, and Harry was carried out of the room as he screamed and sobbed and clawed, kicking as if his life depended on it.

“Prefect Weasley,” Snape snapped over Harry’s agonizing screams, “tell Madam Pomfrey that I am bringing a child addicted to a magical object to her.”

Harry felt greasy hair brush his head as the dark-eyed male turned to some others, “You two, red-haired menaces, get everyone out of the hallway. Every person injured loses your house ten points, if you manage to clear the way, fifty points will be added.”

Harry continued to kick and scream as the twins began moving people out of the way, his desperation growing the further away from the mirror they got.

As soon as the man and child got into the infirmary, the first room locked down. This continued as they walked past the main room into the smaller rooms, which were created for long term students.

When Snape set Harry onto the bed in the closest room that would remain unoccupied until the end of the year, the boy attempted to leave the room, despair growing through every movement as he pounded on the door, allowing a flow of magic to attempt to unlock it. But as strong as accidental magic was, his was weakened by constant attempts to keep its wielder alive and was almost nothing compared to the magic of Hogwarts itself keeping him locked up.

Harry’s pounding stilled and Severus Snape almost sighed in relief until green eyes blazing in fury turned on him. Hogwarts opened the wall closest to him and he darted out, remembering the boy’s mother when her eyes looked similar. The wall closed with Harry colliding with it. 

——

Severus Snape watched Harry Potter pace the room through a one-way window, with the other side appearing to be a wall.

The man couldn’t believe that he didn’t notice one of his youngest students often disappearing. The only slight solace he had was the fact that no one else noticed until one of the boys in the child’s year told him that Harry Potter had not come to any meals as far as they had seen since the day after Christmas, which had been a full seven days past.

A search began immediately when they realized nobody else had seen the first year since either. It had looked grim until a few hours after lunch on the second day when Severus found the boy entranced with a mirror. It wasn’t just any mirror, though, for even he knew the mirror’s ability to show one’s true desire/

It took a lot of effort for the man to get the boy away from the mirror, all the while wondering what caused such obsession in the child, who he believed had everything he could ever want, except perhaps his parents.

A chill went through him as Potter begged to go back to the mirror, going as far as putting everything excluding one’s life on the table. The mirror was practically possessing the boy, and Severus knew he had to act fast. 

Enlisting the help of the nearest prefect along with the most liked yet hated students, he managed to get the boy up to the infirmary.

He stared at the almost feral boy before him, who seemed lost and angry, clawing at the walls, body slamming the door and snarling at any who drew near and wouldn’t let him out (which is to say, everyone). He had attempted escape at least ten times in the past three hours and seemed to beg anyone to let him go back for anything. (Severus remembered watery, pleading eyes, as the boy kneels and sobs and begs)

Hogwarts had changed the room to fit the boy’s needs. It had quickly realized the boy was a hazard to himself, and thus the walls, floor, and even the ceiling were covered in green foam. The bed looked like multiple mattresses stuck together. From what little Severus could see of the bathroom, it was created of some soft tile.

A hand was placed on his shoulder, and the professor greeted the person behind him, “Poppy.”

The matron looked toward the boy in the other room and gave a quiet sigh, “How’s he doing?”

“He hasn’t stopped once, although he has started wearing down. If we can douse him with a calming potion, I should be able to enter his mind and attempt to fix the damage.”

Severus Snape was the person who often started the process of ridding one of addiction. One had to want to remove the addiction before work could be done.

Poppy Pomphry nodded and went to get the potion as Severus prepared to walk into the room. When she handed him the potion, Severus ensured the vinal was unbreakable and walked into the room.

He sat on the bed and waited several minutes, watching the boy who didn’t seem to notice him come in.

“If you are done, Mr. Potter, I believe we can move on.”

The boy turned to him slowly, a glare on his face. Severus did his best to ignore it.

“Mr. Potter, I need you to drink this potion.”

Harry’s stance was defiant, and he spoke words that weren’t needless ramblings or pleads for the first time in at least a week, “Why should I? Are you going to make me?”

Severus glared back at the boy, “Because it is beneficial to your health. I also can make you, believe it or not. The Imperious curse can be used by a trained mediwitch, mediwizard, mind healer, or regular healer if doing otherwise is detrimental to their patient’s health.”

Potter scowled but grabbed the vial, looking like he was debating dumping it on the floor. He decided not to, though, and chugged the whole thing.

Severus was surprised to see the boy complete the task willingly, watching with veiled amusement as the boy’s features softened and a dazed look was in his eyes. Severus stood and led the boy to the bed, where Harry lay down almost instantly.

“Potter, I need your eyes to remain open until I say, alright?” with a very enthusiastic nod, Harry opened his eyes wide.

Severus grabbed the boy’s jaw gently and entered his mindscape.

“Finally, you got the idiot to calm down.” Severus turned around, seeing a boy near the boy-who-lived’s age. Despite the cruel words, a fond tone was wrapped into them.

“Who are you?” the man asked, and the boy, who looked so similar to Harry that they could pass as brothers, smirked.

“Tom Riddle-Potter, at your service. It took you a long time to find us, Professor Snape. I, of course, am glad you came to our aid, but Harry’s almost lost to us and it’s taxing to even get him to function.”

Severus nodded, although he didn’t understand why Tom was there. Several possible illnesses came up, but he couldn’t be sure.

“If you are wondering why I am here, Harry -that is to say, his subconscious, as Harry of the outer realm doesn’t know I exist- and I think I came from Voldemort.” Severus flinched and looked around. Green and gold walls stood to either side of them. “I’m not him, though, as far as we know. I have been with Harry for too long for that.”

Severus nodded and Tom opened the door. Severus immediately heard crying.

“Harry!” the child called softly, “Come on, bud, someone’s going to help you.” he walked in and Severus followed him. A small boy sat on the bed, and Tom wrapped his arms around the boy.

“Mr. Potter,” Severus spoke softly, “I’m going to fix your problem for you, alright?”

Harry looked up and Severus stifled a gasp at the far too thin body. He stood far enough that Harry would feel safer, and looked at the two boys.

“We have two options to fix this. First, we can use long term healing. It is a definite escape as long as you never come across the mirror again. The second is less likely to be definite, but you would be able to stand in the same room as it should it heal. The second option is to warp your memories and is usually somewhat dangerous. The option is up to you.”

Harry murmured something to Tom, who continued to develop a conversation with the smaller boy. After several minutes, Tom looks up with a frown, obviously in disagreement with the choice, “He wants you to get rid of the memories.”

Severus nods, “I will be careful, Mr. Riddle-Potter. You likely won’t see me again, so thank you for your help.” 

Severus pulled out of Harry’s mind and carefully organized his thoughts. It was always hard to manipulate one’s memories without risk of damage, and the caster would have to be very careful. He finished pulling his thoughts together and pointed his wand at the Boy-Who-Lived, who, despite the calming potion, had fear glinting in his eyes.

“Obliviate.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! if you have any ways i can improve, please say so!
> 
> I also have plans to make a series out of it. Would you rather it be over the whole school year, or individual parts in time randomly posted?


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